Missing an Angel's Heart
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [Reincarnation] Otonashi Kanade is a woman with a weak heart and the dream for a son she'll call Yuzuru. But with her only pregnancy ending in a miscarriage and her heart failing her, she wonders if she'll leave this world with regrets after all...or if there's a way to make sure her son is still born in to this world...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, Section H (5,000-9,999 words) – write a fic with exactly five chapters.

I'll explain the premise at the end. Don't want to spoil anything. :D Though this is post-reincarnation, but not compliant with the little flash of reincarnation we see at the end of the final main episode.

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><p><strong>Missing an Angel's Heart<br>Chapter 1**

In the dull summer day when nothing else moved, Kanade listened to the soft lullaby of her heart. It was something she had always been fond of doing, from her childhood days when the doctors had told her it wasn't the strong healthy heart she should have been born with. And sometimes it did seem like it couldn't keep up with her, particularly in her teenage years when she'd ran like the wind on the tracks. But that was okay. She didn't want a particularly long life. Just a life long enough to accomplish all the dreams she'd made for herself. And she'd managed a lot of that. She'd managed to run to her fullest before the stress on her heart made that impossible – but by then she'd felt she'd run for long enough, and that was fine.

She wasn't so active anymore. In part, she'd done as much as she could in childhood in preparation for those limitations in this later life. She still gardened: that small flowerbed in the front and the larger vegetable patch in the backyard. She still walked in the park on nice days with her husband – another dream, and another one of her dreams fulfilled. And she worked as well: perhaps not the sort of job she'd expected to wind up with back in junior high, but it was one she loved more by the day. Just sitting at home, reading and analysing and writing out her own thoughts… a job she'd never imagined herself in, but it was a wonderful ebb to the flow in her life.

All that remained now was a child: one with bright eyes and a strong heart to run around, laughing, about the house. A sweet child who had a sweet smile and a tender voice and a loving soul. The perfect child: the child she was sure all people who longed for children wished for, and received. A little angel born from her own body.

But that hadn't happened yet. Not from lack of trying: Kanade and her husband had made the decision almost two years ago, but as of yet nothing had come from it. Still, she hoped. Hoped that she would hear two rhythms playing in synergy one day soon: hear a little baby heart beating nice and strong beside her slowly dying one.

If she could have a happy, healthy child, she could die happy afterwards, she was sure. She was older now: an adult with a slowly failing heart. She wasn't young and naïve, thinking it would hold out forever – but she'd never been like that. Not really. She'd thought carefully about all she wanted to do with her life, and she'd tried her best to do them.

In that sense, she was lucky. Most people went through their lives thinking there would always be a tomorrow, until suddenly that tomorrow was gone and regrets took the place of the waiting game. But for Kanade who'd already had her heart operated on once, the tomorrow was something she was fortunate to see time and time again, and she'd prepared herself for the day she would wake and find tomorrow no longer there.

But when it came to it, maybe she would still find a dream, hiding somewhere for now, making itself known. Maybe she would have regrets after all, regrets she didn't want to be with her in death. Because she had a peaceful life despite all, and she wanted a peaceful death as well. A death without her soul being wrapped in regrets that tore at her like thorns, trying to keep her chained to a life that had already passed. For someone who'd thought about her imminent death from childhood that was a depressing thought. And it would have been more depressing if she hadn't found her dreams: the things that made living each day to the fullest worthwhile.

But living to the fullest didn't have to mean running about, laughing, every hour of the day. Sometimes it meant just breathing, just listening, without even having to think. The stethoscope had been a gift from her parents quite some time ago. Something she could place on her chest and in her ears and hear the sound of her heart beating through. It had quickly become her favourite thing: more than the cute little stuffed animals that had filled her bed till elementary school and had sat on her bookshelf through most of junior high. And on quiet days when she had no pressing work to do and her husband wasn't home and the garden was wilting under the dry summer weather and she had to wait until the cooler evening hours to work with it, listening to the rhythm of her heart was her favourite thing to do.

It reminded her of life: of the life she had lived, and all the things she had accomplished in it. It reminded her of the dream still left, the longing for another heart to beat alongside her one, gentle and slow. Sometimes, when nothing else spoke save that heart of hers, she could hear another heart alongside it, like in a dream. She even had a name, if it was a boy. She didn't know why, but the moment it had occurred to her it seemed like a perfect fit, and she could think of nothing else.

And it sounded perfect too, almost as if that unborn baby boy was already a part of their family. Yuzuru…Otonashi Yuzuru, the child she hoped she could conceive, and safely deliver with that still beating heart of hers. If it was a girl she had a few names, on the same string, like Tsuna, or Kizuna, but none that spoke so firmly to her as Yuzuru did. It was almost enough to make her hope it _was_ a boy, because the perfect child deserved a perfect name for them…but that was for fate to decide and she would be happy no matter what the child was, so long as it was safely born, safely in her hands, that heart beating in rhythm alongside her own…

The rhythm suddenly changed: fast and strong and familiar, and Kanade opened her eyes. At some point they'd slipped shut, lulled into a daze at the rhythmic sound to awaken when it changed. But that heart beat was a lullaby as well: the one she would hear in sleepless, windless nights when she pressed an ear to her husband's bare chest and listened to the heart within.

He was smiling at her now, the bell of her stethoscope over her chest and a twinkle in his eye. But it was a sad twinkle as well. Kanade knew that, and so did her husband. He'd known when he'd agreed to marry her, that he'd be watching her slowly die as well. But that had been his choice, the way he wanted to live his life. Just as Kanade had chosen the path to her own: one filled with fulfilling dreams instead of regret or despair.

'I was dreaming about our child,' Kanade said. How long had it been since she'd been sitting there unmoving, on the rocking chair, just listening. Summer days sometimes seemed so long, but in other times they managed to carry her away.

And how many times had he come home to find her lost in that dream? Many, it seemed. Not enough to call despair forth but enough to keep it a constant presence in their minds, amongst other things.

'We'll keep trying,' he said softly, letting go of the bell and offering the hand to his wife instead. Kanade took it and stood, the sweat from the walk home clinging to his palms and just from inaction and the humid summer air to hers. 'We'll see this child.'

Kanade smiled. 'They'll be a troublemaker,' she said. 'Teasing us already.'

They laughed about that. A comment they always made, but a likely one if not for the reasons they said. They wouldn't discourage that. Children grew by learning, by experiencing. Both of them had caused their fair share of troubles growing up, but those were the things that taught them responsibility, and their morals. The things that shaped their decision making, helped them grow into the people they now were.

'I've made salad,' Kanade said, finally, when the echo of their laughter drowned the soft beating of her heart. Time was flowing again now, and she had another dream: that time in her house, with her husband, making the family the both of them so wanted to be…

'Then let's eat.' And then after that would be another effort. Another chance. Another hope. Not another despair; neither of them would allow it. Not yet, not when there were years ahead of them still, even in the face of approaching death. Because, truthfully, everyone would die one day. And they could only look ahead with so narrow eyes – and that was too great of a sacrifice, with all the opportunities that were around them, in life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Missing an Angel's Heart  
>Chapter 2<strong>

When Kanade missed her first period in a long time, she was ecstatic. It was no means a definitive assumption, but her menstrual cycle usually followed the clock and the absence thereof when she wasn't feeling any other effect was most likely what she hoped it would be. And though she knew it was wiser to get some confirmation first, the excitement was so paramount she ran about in happy squeals and tired herself out before husband could tell a word of caution or wisdom to her.

Of course, he was thrilled with the possibility as well, but less trusting to such an obscure sign. But his wife rarely showed such passion as she did in those moments, and so he kept those misgivings to himself. It was true after all; her cycle almost never deviated from thirty days, and had, in the years he'd been married to her, never exceeded it.

And they'd spent so long it seemed trying and longing that they knew the next steps. To the general doctor and Kanade's heart specialist because he needed to know the moment the possibility became more than effort. And a GP could confirm more accurately than an off the shelf pregnancy test could. 'And,' her husband pointed out, 'we'll need to go to the doctor anyway, so we might as well skip that step.'

Getting an appointment was simple in that time of the year. Most people were on vacation or camp or lazing about at home, and the doctor was able to see them that same afternoon. They drove down to the city after lunch. He greeted them, talked to them, took a blood test – and Kanade had had many of those in her time and was well used to it. Her husband looked away from the needle though; he wasn't as used to them and they still managed to unnerve him. They would get the results the following day, he said. He or the nurse would call when they arrived.

Both of them waited anxiously for that call. Kanade spent the rest of the afternoon listening to her heartbeat through the stethoscope and imagining another heart beating in synergy with hers. The possibility of it being a false alarm, about her missing period being something else entirely, was still there, but hope and desire drowned it out. She wanted this baby. She really wanted this baby, and she couldn't wait forever for him or her.

Her husband called his work, because he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate a bit before the news came. And together they waited anxiously – because euphoria was like a rush that didn't last and anxiety almost always came to fill the space left behind. The next day both of them were up early and Kanade was feeling slightly ill. Her heart was fluttering instead of its normally smooth song, and the smell of eggs frying in the kitchen felt more nauseating than appetising to her stomach. Her husband cooked some porridge and cut some fruit for the both of them and finished up the eggs rolls and in the fridge. Cooking more delicate things steadied his nerves, like gardening or just listening to the sounds of heartbeats steadied Kanade's.

But Kanade didn't look or feel up to gardening that day and a fluttering heart wasn't a soothing sound in the least. Still, the leaves outside sashayed slowly with the soft warm wind, so she put on some soft music and watched that. And when she grew more restless, she picked up the new paper that had been faxed to her the previous night and started making notes in the margin.

When the phone rang, it was a loud shrill sound that seemed to echo even more from expectancy. Kanade straightened in her chair and her husband, who'd just finished with the dishes, picked it up. Kanade watched his back, how it was slightly stiff: a sign of his own anxiety. And he'd always been more anxious, because failure was failure but success meant a whole other risk they would have to face. Kanade had resigned herself to that. She would be, on the most selfish of levels, happy, she thought, if she died with all her dreams fulfilled. And all humans had that selfishness, she was sure, otherwise it would be impossible to die without regrets.

Finally her husband hung up the phone and turned to her. He gave a thumbs up, and Kanade smiled in relief. That euphoria from yesterday did not return; she had exhausted herself on that front it seemed. But a bubble of contentment spread in her mind; that soft, relieving feeling like someone who had finally been granted their long awaited rest.

The nausea vanished by lunch time and they had a proper meal, with her husband trying to sneak more into her plate as he always did. It was a teasing gesture, mostly, but underneath it Kanade knew was worry for her health and wellbeing. But she really couldn't eat as much as he. She never could. It may be that which contributed to her petite built or it may be her heart or her genes.

After lunch, and for the next fortnight, it was a flurry of quiet excitement. Kanade quickly reviewed the papers that came her way but most of her attention was on the life blossoming inside of her. They'd brought lots of books on pregnancy and parenting in preparation, and time often found her pouring over them and thinking, perhaps, too far ahead.

And then there was the follow up with the heart specialist, who congratulated her but warned about the difficult journey ahead for her body and soul. She nodded and paid close attention to his recommendations; this pregnancy would mean nothing good if she couldn't support it to term. Diet restrictions, careful monitoring, prophylactic medication and supplements…some of things she'd started almost two years ago when the decision had been made, but they were reiterated and new things added on. She wrote it all down just in case, the worries of all the things that could go wrong circulating in her mind. But then there would be discussions of follow ups, later tests and whether she'd like to have the baby at home or in the city hospital…far ahead perhaps, but it gestured to the future she hoped for.

Her husband went back to work the day after the news with the date for the first ultrasound so he could apply for another day off. His boss looked quite amused at the lopsided little smile sitting on his lips, but he didn't explain. There was still a little fear, a little uncertainty…and maybe even a little hope as well. As much as he wanted a child with Kanade, his one argument against it was the inevitable strain pregnancy and labour would put on her body. He didn't want to lose his wife for a yet unborn child…but whenever they'd talked about it Kanade's face had become so bright at the prospect of that child her husband found his trepidations grow ever smaller. It was a powerful dream of hers, and doubt was an almost inconsequential thing in the face of it. He knew she thought about it, sometimes, and that was enough on the topic for the both of them. He'd made that choice almost two years ago: a choice he prayed and hoped he would never come to regret.

If things went as smoothly as they hoped, there would be no cause for regret. And he was careful as well, learning like his wife was learning and a little more: talking to mothers at work. They wondered aloud if his wife was pregnant now and soon the affirmation slipped out. And he came home that night with a grin as large as the one when his wife had told her suspicions to him and second only, perhaps, to the day she'd accepted his proposal for marriage. Kanade smiled at his excitement, but said nothing. The same jumble of euphoria and worry was within her as well.

And now that the first hurdle towards her final dream had been passed, it was a game of waiting and praying for fate's kind hands in the time and journey that would follow. A long road stretching to a horizon marked with angel wings – and the question, the worry, was really what sort of angel waited there. White sparkling wings symbolising a long, healthy and vibrant life…or the other extreme: tar-stained black symbolising a quick decay and death.


	3. Chapter 3

**Missing an Angel's Heart  
>Chapter 3<strong>

On the first day of her sixth week, Kanade put the bell of her stethoscope over her uterus and held her breath. The heart might have started forming by then, and she longed for the breath where she would hear that first beat, in synergy with her own. But she could only her the quiet gargles of her own stomach – near empty because of her intermittent bouts of nausea. Just that morning she'd thrown up the light porridge and slices of apple she'd had.

It had been an unlikely chance, to hear the foetal heart so early…but the time was so close now she was starting to feel impatient. But she also knew patience was an important thing for the both of them, so she moved the bell to over her chest and listened to the slightly quicker than usual pitter-patter of her own heart.

That was an expected thing, her cardiologist explained. The body had to do more work when maintaining a pregnancy on top of all the usual bodily functions, and hers struggled often at the normal load. That was why she was being extra careful, extra diligent – because she wanted that little life forming in her belly to be born.

But maybe, since she thought she would want a child regardless of her own circumstances, she would have been extra careful in the first pregnancy anyway. But she'd have thought about more children, she thought: a large backyard filled with laughing kids, each with a different combination of traits. One with her silver hair. Another with her purple eyes. Another with her short stature. Hopefully nothing with her weak heart – but then again, she couldn't really think about more children until the first was running around and smiling and completely healthy and she was still alive enough to think about more.

But before that, long before that, she wanted to hear that slowly forming heart beating alongside her own. And though it was unlikely she would hear the beat of the heart that early she listened for it anyway. And once she was certain it hadn't yet arrived she tucked her stethoscope away with some melancholy and waited for the next day where the ritual was recommenced. And the next day, and the day after that, until the eighth week and her the time for her first scan came and she still hadn't caught that heart's gentle beat.

But maybe, she comforted herself from the trills of worry sneaking in, the heart was still too young to hear. Who said the song if a foetal heart could be heard as easily as an adult one? She'd never thought to ask, though maybe she should have; she might have been less worried…or more. Her own heart beat was still there: fluttering a little quickly, but still loud, still strong. She longed to hear the child now, now that the heart was, or should have been, forming unhindered within the baby form.

Aside from that, the three weeks passed much the same as the previous ones had. Some mornings she opened her eyes to the too harsh sunlight and felt a strong wave of nausea wash over her. Sometimes the end result would be her leaning over to throw up over the side if the bed. Sometimes it would be anticipated and her husband would rush a container under her chin before the contents came. But she didn't always throw up; sometimes it was just that feeling that made her roll over and bury her face into her pillow again. And then she'd fall asleep again and wake up when the sun was at its highest and sweat clung stubbornly to her skin.

And the heat just became more and more unbearable, even after Kanade asked her husband to take out their portable fan and plug it in for her. The low whir of its motor was distracting, particularly when she had to strain her ears for a beat that had not yet come into being. But the summer sun was burning stronger than ever and her body had never been more vulnerable to it. Not even when she'd run for long hours under the sun. Not even when she'd trimmed her roses until the skin of the back of her neck was burnt.

They were wilting now, those poor roses. She tended to them after the sun went down and it became a little cooler – just a little, because it often seemed as though the ground absorbed all that heat throughout the day and let it slowly dissipate at night. While walking on the paved footpath was like walking through a sauna on coals even with shoes on – and she could never fault her husband for running to and from his car – walking at night was like walking through the sauna with a floor of cooling coals. And she couldn't bring the fan with her either.

Though it would begin to cool again soon, she hoped. Summer was more than half past and her husband had already begun to note the change. Not Kanade though; her body still struggled through the heavy heat. But it was okay. She could sit with the fan and block out its low whir. She could sink into a nice cool bath and let the knots of strain float away. As long as it didn't get too much hotter, those things would be fine. Her heart had taught her the lesson of patience long ago, and now she had another reason to pay it heed.

She put her hand on her stomach, though it was far too early for that, she knew. But still, the feeling of a life forming inside came back to her. It wasn't too early for the heartbeat anymore though, and after a pause it was the slightly cooler bell of the stethoscope that replaced her slick hand. She heard no beat: only the gurgling of her stomach and, much slower, she moved it up until the echoes of air moving through her lungs and then the excited pitter-patter of her heart over that.

She closed her eyes and ignored the whirring of the fan, listening to her heart beat instead until other noises interrupted: the sound of the car pulling in to the driveway, the sound of an oven slamming and some cursing – because her husband was good at making meals but not so much cakes and cookies. A couple of times it was the doorbell as well. Her parents visited. Some co-workers of her husband. More often it was the phone or the fax machine, the latter usually some new paper she was meant to review.

She'd have to call at some point. The work wasn't much, especially during the summer when there wasn't more to do, but it would still be difficult in the aftermath of childbirth…and who knew how long before that. But she hadn't yet. Each day went by as it did: late mornings still in bed, a light but filling breakfast left by her husband, some work around the house and then the hottest time of the day strikes and she'd settle into her chair by the window and gaze the unmoving plants and empty streets and listened to the sounds her own body made. And then things would start to cool and she'd get up again, make herself (and her husband if it was a weekend) do a little with the papers to review, then start on dinner. That took her longer now, since sometimes the smell was nauseating and she'd have to leave halfway, but it would still be ready by the time her husband returned from work. Then she'd tend to her plants, and she'd walk a little down the lane with her husband, then to bed with the thinnest covers to be found because, even late at night, the heat of summer was a strong presence.

And then finally the day came. Surprisingly it was raining that morning but it was still warm, and Kanade strapped on sandals and took an umbrella and climbed into her husband's car. The scenery was clouded by the rain rolling off the windows, but that was okay. Kanade had brought her stethoscope as well, to listen to the soothing sound of her heart besting away. Because the sound of rain in the car's roof was loud and impatient and nor soothing at all – not like when it rolled gently off clear windows and made translucent the garden and road beyond.

She might have been a little more anxious when she arrived at the clinic, but the doctor checked her over and reported nothing ill. And then she was all jittery because the time for the internal scan had come – and then she was terribly disappointed and initially rather worried as well when they had nothing to show her.

The doctor explained that it didn't always mean something, that sometimes it was just that the scan wasn't sensitive enough or the baby was growing a little more slowly than the norm. Come back a week later, he said, trying to be reassuring – and it half worked, because Kanade's husband was put to ease by those words and set another appointment.

But Kanade felt a bitter weight in her heart, as though she'd already lost, that that child had never formed into a viable life. The excited pitter-patter of her heart had faded into a low tired beat that only made her more depressed. Her husband tried to cheer her up, point out the healthy sliver that still lived.

'I'll cheer up when I hear my child's heart beat,' she replied.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Warnings for a miscarriage in this chapter. It is in the summary, but just in case anyone missed that…

And a huge thank you to Rosawyn and the others at the Rlt for helping with this chapter.

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><p><strong>Missing an Angel's Heart<br>Chapter 4**

They got the confirmation during the eight week. The foetal heart hadn't formed, and though there was quite a bit of medical jargon involved, what mattered was their little baby would never form, or be born.

Things became quite cold then, though the summer continued on. Kanade still placed the bell of her stethoscope on her stomach and closed her eyes and ignored the rest of the world for the gargle that was her stomach. Sometimes, she could even fool herself into thinking she could hear a heartbeat then as well.

Even after she saw that little red smear that was all they could call a body, she'd try to listen for a heartbeat she knew she wouldn't hear soon, if again. And though things moved around them in a different flow: no need now to worry about easier access to the hospital or lining up a midwife and someone to help her around the house in the weeks after birth while her husband worked. No need to worry about what colour they should paint one of the rooms they'd set aside long ago for a child – because when they'd had the house built from scratch, they'd envisioned it filled with laughing, healthy children.

She was in the hospital for a few days when she bled and then came back home, listless and weak. Her husband stayed the first few days, but the silence weighed as much on his soul as it did on hers. And they'd loved it so much before. But the suggestion to move was made half-heartedly. Things would start moving again. Grow warmer – ironically into the autumn or winter. They may have their country home filled with children yet.

But there was a question that begged to be answered. Did they want more children now, that they'd lost their first one so early? The one they'd banked all their hopes and dreams upon – or Kanade had at least. Her husband hoped more strongly for another chance, because there was that unfulfilled dream of a long life with a family and her.

Maybe that helped him. Or maybe it was because he hadn't been the one carrying that child. But he went back to work after a few weeks, once he was sure Kanade would be okay by herself. But that didn't stop him from worrying, or her from spending the days while he worked the same as she had while he'd been at home.

He'd hoped she had just needed some time to herself, that he'd been suffocating her. But she didn't say anything, nor did she comment on all the other suggestions he offered: vacation, visits from friends, a chance to try again –

Though a few tears had slipped down her cheeks when he'd said that, and he'd immediately apologised and fled. 'I don't think I can,' she said to him afterwards, over the dinner table that had, over the weeks, seemed to grow so much bigger and emptier.

He accepted that and handed her her medication. What other choice did he have?

But he couldn't stand the thought, and that feeling became stronger the more time passed. Kanade didn't seem to fully recover. Though she seemed to try and throw herself into her life again she barely moved, and the garden began to die with the autumn. The house got dustier and duller as well, as though it was far too big – and yet her husband would watch and know that the effort she put in would have had the house sparkling before.

They would have had her eyes sparkling before as well, but it had been months since he'd seen that. He rang for the doctor from work one afternoon: almost like a whim of despair. And then he hung up his phone and cried at his desk – the first time he'd cried since the day the hope for his unborn child had died.

He was lucky he was at work, and that the people who shared his office with him were kind and supportive and good friends of his and knew of his tale. They knew not to say "things would be okay" or offer meaningless condolences that had already been offered before. They were just shoulders to lean on, just like he was a shoulder for Kanade, when the two of them would sit on the porch side by side at night, staring up at the stars and closer than they lay together in bed.

Still, they couldn't change what he knew waited for him when he went back home. They could only support, and offer what help they could. There was a half-hearted threat thrown somewhere about, and he could chuckle at it. Though he knew there were many a man who'd do just what he'd been threatened not to.

But he couldn't imagine blaming Kanade, or leaving her. Not for their unborn child dying. Not for her own impending death. None of those things were her fault – and none of those were his either. He couldn't control death, or protect them from it.

'Hey,' one of his workmates asked suddenly. 'Do you believe in God?'

He considered that. 'I believe in dreams,' he answered. And he did: his dream, Kanade's dream – and there was no reason both of those dreams couldn't still be fulfilled. Though that day his heart burned a little too bright and he pushed too far.

Kanade surprised him: she screamed and cried and kicked him out of the room to sit in the dark and think how his wife was dying with both their dreams.

But his words, his feelings…they still made it through, and Kanade wrestled with it. Her mind still clung to that dark despair, but part of her now filled with desperation – her husband's desperation, and her own as well. That dream was still there, and now she had only months left to see it. There was no more time for doubts and hesitations.

And she was all over her husband the next day, apologising and pleading and begging – and he held her firmly and checked that she knew what she wanted, what to do.

Time had suddenly started to accelerate, tearing the carpet from their feet.

But it didn't happen. By the time Kanade could no longer walk the length of their house and the specialist expressed his desire to have Kanade closer to the hospital, nothing had come. And it seemed like nothing would come, because even walking across the room made her tired and breathless now.

And that just made the blanket of despair grow, because now that she had thrown herself into her dream again, it was slipping away faster than ever. She was thin and frail and that and her husband's strength was all she had to lean on anymore.

And she knew she had whittled away so much at that. Several times she apologised to him. He accepted it without ever a word of blame and held her close, her ear against his chest like she so much loved to be held.

But at his desk, when she wasn't and couldn't be there and he could let his shoulders slump forward, he thought and reasoned and searched for something that could change things yet. And then someone at work suggested something: hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure that was what he wanted, but he jumped on the idea and brought it to the doctors, and to Kanade.

By that point, she slept most of the day and all the acceptance she gave was a feathery "okay". But that was enough, and even though it meant that, between the costs for surrogacy and the palliation, their beautiful countryside house was gone, it was worth it.

Or it would be worth it, he hoped. And he was sure Kanade hoped as well, in the dreams she drifted for longer in. And if that hope, that fulfilment, could give her strength, then that would be even better…

But he thought, by that point, that he'd accepted he'd never get to raise a child with his wife. He just hoped, now, that she'd last long enough to see him or her. A child that she couldn't give birth to, but would still be a part of her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Missing an Angel's Heart  
>Chapter 5<strong>

Kanade passed away in the first few weeks of winter, watching the pale, bare branches turn slowly grey. Her husband had been with her then: a weekend day where nothing could take him away from the reality that approached except his own violation.

And with his wife lying so vulnerably upon a hospital bed, how could he think of doing such a thing? Abandoning her.

So he didn't. He went to her, and on that particular day they were talking about their future child once again. Or he was talking, and she was lying with her eyes closed and listening to his words. The same sorts of things Kanade had told him when their child had been conceived: how he'd be a healthy little boy called Yuzuru, running about and making enough noise to liven the place up by himself – even going so far as to bother the neighbours. And considering how far away the nearest house was to theirs, that would be quite a feat.

Personally, he had thought that any child from two relatively quiet people like them couldn't possibly produce an offspring that could make that much noise. He had said as much that time as well, and Kanade had laughed.

Now, Kanade only smiled faintly as he said both things himself. And the laughter was just an echo from the beginning of summer, before things had started to fall.

'So…' And the silence seemed only to grow, after all that hope they'd had for a more lively home. 'Why Yuzuru?'

'I don't know,' Kanade said, quietly and honestly. 'It just…seems to fit.'

And she'd died soon after that, more than a year before Otonashi Yuzuru was finally born.

That year was a hard, lonely one, and it would have been harder without his work and his colleagues, his friends. He'd been burying himself in the work before, but suddenly all that seemed to screech to a halt. Maybe it was because there was no hope he could hold on to, no despair he could drive away and forget. There was only the truth: a lonely little one room apartment that had been all he could afford after all the costs for hospital and funeral were covered.

He collected more as time went on, but so no reason to move. He went out drinking with his colleagues far more often now – he'd almost never gone before. But it was company. It was a chance to not drown in loneliness in his new home, and his friends would take him by the arm and drag him away from all of that.

And they would keep a sharp eye on him as well. Not too many drinks. No flirting women allowed within ten feet of him. Yummy dinners whenever they could convince one of their wives to whip one up for the whole gang. Nothing that was going to send him spiralling anywhere except for the slightly suffocating feeling that came from all the attention.

He might have yelled at them a few times, stormed away in some indescribable rage. But they'd stopped him from doing something he would regret in that time, and eventually something happened to make the future not so lonely anymore.

He had almost forgotten…that there was a surrogate mother somewhere in Japan carrying their child. His and Kanade's…because of course her dream couldn't ever become a reality unless the child was hers, carrying her genes and her heart.

Kanade's hope…and he'd forgotten completely about it.

But at that point it became the centre of his life. The baby, born: healthy and male and wailing loudly in a hospital room somewhere in Tokyo. He almost laughed: he sounded like everything Kanade had hoped and dreamed he would be.

And he was born. Actually born, from them.

It was probably the first time he'd driven so fast in his life, and perhaps the last as well. But just as the world had screeched to a halt when he'd lost his baby, then his wife, it started moving again, too fast to keep up. His head spun, and he realised he wasn't ready for this: not at all.

But now he had hope in his hands. Kanade's hope.

It was still a few weeks before he could bring the child, who he'd been quick to give the name Kanade had so wanted for him, back home. And those weeks flew faster than the pollen on spring's wind. He ran about so haphazardly in the office the next day that his friends thought he'd lost his head. But then they got the story out of him and offered their help: all they'd given in the past year, again.

He cried. That was the second time he'd cried in his office, and he didn't care. Nor did anyone else, except to straighten him up and set him on his path again. But things started to look up after that. He was suddenly busy raising a child in an apartment that had become quickly crammed, without a wife. He had no time for moping anymore.

Though sometimes he would; he couldn't help but find those days, those few hours, where he'd slip away into that dim scene where it was only his heart echoing loudly in his ears. But his friends, bless them, were there when that happened – and Kanade's as well, taking him away for a little time outside, looking after Yuzuru while he was gone.

But those times grew less and less as Yuzuru wriggled firmly into his father's heart. Cute little Yuzuru who really was the bundle of energy Kanade had envisioned him, at least in his youth. He grew more sombre with age, asked about his mother more and more as well.

'So what's your son up to these days, Otonashi?'

That had been the hardest question he'd ever had to answer, he thought, sipping at his drink. 'Entrance exams,' he replied. 'He's applying for medicine.'

'Good on him,' his colleague and friend nodded. 'You raised a good boy.'

'Not really.' He looked at his drink. 'You all helped. And Kanade too. And…' He smiled a little, staring at the reflection of the old man in the drink. '…he might have raised me.'

'Too sappy.' The other quickly chugged down his own drink and waved for another. 'But little bundle of hope and growing up and all that – almost makes me wish I'd settled down.'

Almost…and he didn't have to say the reason why. Otonashi knew: because a tragedy had played out so close to him.

Even though it might have had a happy ending after all.

'I still wish Kanade could have seen him…' He closed his eyes. 'But it feels as though she did. That little kid running around in the country town? Exactly like she'd pictured him.'

'Strings of fate or something?' The co-worker grinned. 'I guess that's the reason you named him Yuzuru?'

The father shrugged. 'Kanade chose the name. She said it just felt right. Almost as if she _had_ seen him before.'

'Maybe she had…if you believe in reincarnation and all those things.'

'Maybe…' Otonashi agreed. 'Especially if that means dreams can have another chance of coming true.'

'But Kanade's dream did come true, in the end.' The phone rang. 'Is that Yuzuru done with his exam?'

'It's too early for that,' the father disagreed. 'He shouldn't even be _there_ yet.'

'Got a new girlfriend lined up then?' It was a joke. Both of them were too old now, and there had never been another woman like Kanade. 'And where the hell is that exam?'

'The real estate agent,' Otonashi replied. 'And the exam's in Tokyo.'

The co-worker whistled. 'That's quite the distance. Does this mean you're planning a permanent move?'

'Something like that.' The brown liquid gently swayed, catching a few rays of light from overhead. 'I can't bear to part with him quite yet.'

Even if Yuzuru was almost eighteen and old enough to live on his own in Tokyo.

'Assuming he gets in,' the co-worker pointed out. 'Though I'm sure he will. He's a good, smart boy.' His new drink arrived, and he sipped at the foam that topped it. 'Though medicine, huh. Shows us old men up, huh.'

'That was entirely his mother. Her stethoscope…and the thought of advancing medicine to the point where it can save people like Kanade…and that child that would have been Yuzuru's elder sibling as well.'

The co-worker gulped a third of his drink. 'It's been a while since I've heard you mention that,' he commented. 'Wish your son good luck on his exam for me.'

'Will do.'

**The End**

* * *

><p><strong>Post AN:** Okie dokie, explanation. I believe I promised that.

The premise of this fic was Kanade having Yuzuru's heart in the afterlife. That makes sense in one aspect, seeing as Kanade died with his heart in her chest and not her own. And Yuzuru was without his heart during that time as well. But if they entered the afterlife in that state, and there was no hints of either of them getting their original hearts back, that meant they left the afterlife like that as well.

On that premise, it was possible that (especially if Kanade was born before) the next time Yuzuru would be born, it would be without his heart, because it was with Kanade. Which is the explanation behind the miscarriage that occurs in the third chapter and is confirmed in the fourth. Once Kanade was dead, Yuzuru's heart was free and could perhaps go back to his body in time for the next reincarnation (however that would work). So Yuzuru born after Kanade died was born with his heart, and because it was his heart and he'd never had heart troubles to begin with, no problems in this life either. And this time it's Kanade and her stethoscope that inspire Yuzuru to become a doctor – and yes, I was evil enough to end the story with him being on the train on his way to the entrance exam – the same situation he died in the canon time. Not that he necessarily will die here, but the option's there.

Another thing I thought I should mention as well is Kanade's husband/Yuzuru's father in this fic. I never intended to name him, even after realising he was going to become quite central in the later chapters. Because, in the end, this story is about Kanade and Yuzuru and the situation with the heart. As such, many things about him are generalised: his name (he's referred to as his surname in this chapter, and not even that in the other ones), his work, the details about that year and a bit all alone. Of course, the story wouldn't work at all without him, so he's still a vital part of this story. I also tried not to make him a Gary-stu, but jugging between that and the circumstances I threw him into was quite tricky. Okazaki Tomoya from Clannad inspired a little of Otonashi – but as you can see, Yuzuru was not living with grandparents this time. More inspiration was probably Sanae and Akio: the parents who lost their daughter but raised their granddaughter in the void. After all, Yuzuru was the dream Kanade had left behind.

And as for why Kanade was using the bell instead of the diaphragm, the diaphragm is more sensetive so it might pick up the abnormal sounds of a failing heart as well. Kanade didn't want to hear that - though I have my doubts the bell of a classic stethescope would be able to make out a baby's heartbeat anyway... The bell is usually only used to make out the mitral stenosis murmur (but that might be getting too technical...). But for simplicity's sake, the diaphragm is the one that doctors use to check heart beat in most cases. If they turn it around and use the bit without the covering, that's the bell.

Lastly, a late coming disclaimer. I have no experience with pregnancy or miscarriage, and the closest person to me who's died is my grandfather when I was quite young. I am a medical student, but at the point I wrote this story I haven't covered the relevant areas or seen any patients, so all medical information is from my textbooks and the internet, and the more emotional aspects are from talking to people who were willing to share their experiences with me. So thank you to everyone who helped me write this story, and to my readers, thank you for sticking with this story and I hope I've been able to portray the things explored in this fic in a realistic manner.

Thanks for reading, and see you guys next Angel Beats fic!


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